At Nightfall
by donotsrock
Summary: What happens if night falls over Hogwarts and Draco is left with is own thoughts? Quite dark and no happy ending. Rating for language.


**At Nightfall**

by donotsrock

_A/N: Yay! Finished at 7 p.m. sharp on ::checks calendar:: September 7th, 2003… sorrowfully, I don't know when I started this, so I can't tell you how long it took me. But I have to say I'm rather proud of myself. I will upload this without a beta (because I can't wait to upload it to read your reviews ::looks pleadingly at readers::) so please either ignore bad spelling/grammar mistakes or tell me where to find them and I'll change it. _

_Oh, and if you feel the urge to flame me… feel free to do so (I don't mind, actually). Tell me I suck (I know I don't) and tell me you don't like me (why should I care? I don't even know you) and tell me you hate my style of writing (so what? Don't read it then!). Okay. If you still feel the urge to flame me… go ahead. Maybe now you will only have to tell me how arrogant and boastful I sound (again with the 'I don't mind' speech). _

_::reads again what is written above, sighing:: I will stop now or the author's note will be longer than the whole story! _

_::smacks her head:: I almost forgot: _

_Disclaimer: Draco and any other HP-character mentioned belong to J.K. Rowling. The //lyrics\\ are from Staind's album 'Break the Cycle' from the song 'For You'. I don't own any of it. And I don't want to make profit out of it. _

_Oh, and by the way, go and read my story 'One Day'. It's somehow the opposite of this. It deals with Lucius Malfoy's life as a Death Eater and he's not so happy about it. It's pretty dark, too. Seems to be my 'dark weekend'. ::shrugs:: Okay, let's start with the story._

At Nightfall 

//To my mother, to my father,

It's your son or it's your daughter\\

Yes, _Dad_, it's Draco. Your _son_. But to you it's maybe only heir, someone that help to keep up the name Malfoy.  

//Are my screams loud enough for you to hear me?

Should I turn this up for you?\\

You probably wouldn't hear me if I stood next to you right now, shouting into your ear how much I hate you. No, you wouldn't hear. You just don't understand. You don't understand that I am not like you. Not at all. That I don't _want_ to be like you. I don't want to be feared and hated, even by those others would call _family_. I can see the fear in Mother's eyes, every time you come into the room. And frankly, I am glad that I'm at Hogwarts most of the time. I can only imagine what you do to her that she flinches at the mere thought of her husband. 

//I sit here locked inside my head

Remembering everything you've said\\

Yes, I remember. Everything. Every time you called me stupid, or whiney, or mama's boy, or… I think I could continue this list quite some time. After all, there are almost eighteen years of talking to me as if I were a lower being. But not in public, of course. The spoiled child of Lucius Malfoy doesn't get mistreated. Do you know that they think of me that way. Spoiled. Favoured by my father and his friends. Even by the Dark Lord himself. And there I am, alone. As if anyone would believe me even if I tried to explain.  

//This silence gets us nowhere!

Gets us nowhere way too fast!\\

I hate myself. Even more than I hate you. Because I let you say what you say and I let you do what you do. Not only to me but to everyone else as well. I never did a thing to stop you… to save them. I just stood there, watching silently. Silence. There was a time when I preferred silence. I didn't talk, except in class (and to insult others, I remind myself – just another reason to hate me). I refused to talk. But now, I can't stand it anymore. I hate the silence. It makes everything worse. How could you possibly know how I feel when I don't talk? And now I'm about to turn eighteen. You know what will happen then. Just what you had planned since the day of my birth. What a happy day… for you. I know I will hate me even more afterwards… because I wasn't able to withstand (and I know I won't). Because I'm too much a coward to end it now (when there's the slightest chance to get away with it). 

//This silence is what kills me

I need someone to help me\\

I know the silence _will_ kill me. Of course it's not the silence that will shoot a curse my way (I'm not stupid, after all). It will be Potter, or one of his delusional friends, or an Auror, or even Dumbledore himself. Or one of my 'allies'. Or should I say _your_ allies, for I don't want to be one of them. 

But _my_ silence will kill me. Every day I wake up I want to go to someone… anyone and tell them. Everything. If I only told _one_ person before it happens, just one, maybe that person could save me. Do what I'm not strong enough to do. But how can I expect anyone to stand up for me, when I can't even stand up for myself? How can I possibly ask for help if I'm not willing to accept it? How? And what if I tried to talk to you? Shouldn't you know what I'm going through, shouldn't you understand your son?

//But you don't know how to listen

And let me make my decisions 'cause I sit here locked 

Inside my head remembering everything you've said

The silence gets us nowhere!

Gets us nowhere way too fast!\\

No, you wouldn't listen to me. Every decision I make, every step I take, just _everything_ I do has to meet your approval. And if it doesn't… you don't _tell_ me how much you dislike my behaviour – no, you _show_ me! In a hurtful way… Can't you ever solve a problem without sinking as low as cursing and beating someone to half-death? I know you can't when it comes to me, so why do I even bother? You wouldn't listen anyway. And again I'm alone. The one person who should understand me doesn't even seem to speak the same language. When I say "you hurt me", you laugh and ask, "so you want more?". And I can't forget it. And I am silent. How do they call it? Vicious circle? I call it a hell of a situation. We really are getting nowhere. You don't want to listen and I refuse to speak. What a match!

//All your insults and your curses make

Me feel like I'm not a person

And I feel like I'm nothing but

You made me so do something\\

Sometimes it seems you only care because others expect you to care. Like when you send owls to school and go after people because they treated me bad or insulted me. But when you are the one who treats me worst, and insults me worst, how come I feel that it loses all of its worth. A defence isn't that good it the defender is originally the aggressor, right? 

Sometimes it seems you don't care at all. I think so most of the time. And hope you just don't care at all (for the tiny little chance that a day passes without your noticing me). It's easier if I think you don't care. But then again, it's your fault (or is it mine – I'm the weak one here, after all) that my life is worthless to me. Sometimes I'd rather die than to follow your steps – even if it's just to get some attention, some sign you did notice me as a person and not just the child produced to have an heir. Not the child you have to cope with every time it visits 'home'. Not the worthless nothing that carries your name. 

//Because I'm fucked up because you are

Need attention, attention you couldn't give\\

You could stop all of this. You'd just have to give me something to hold on to. A sign – anything – to show me you actually want me by your side. A sign that you (no, not love, but) care for me, as a person. As your son. And I would gladly follow you. 

But I see you can't. You are too busy being yourself to notice everyone around you. If I think about your life, I can see you're even worse than me. I know I didn't want to be this way. I know you forced me to (at first, Draco, at first – or don't you remember the day you actually started to enjoy insulting Granger [mudblood] and her pathetic friends?) and made me the way I am. And until your task is completed (turning me into you), you won't rest. Your life is a mess. And you don't even see it. But I do, because I have to live with it, cope with it, every day of my _own_ existence (I refuse to think of it as life, because I know it isn't really a life, only a shadow of life, maybe).

//I sit here locked inside my head

Remembering everything you've said\\

Again, I am alone. The only one I can talk to is myself. And I hope I come up with some ideas, or next month there won't be anything left of the nothingness that is me. The empty space will be filled up (with an ugly and disgusting tattoo) and (hate for you, dear Father). Why does it have to hurt so bad? All I wanted was just a little bit of a real father, like everyone else have. Thinking of Potter… he doesn't have a father at all, or Longbottom (idiotic clumsy prat) who has a father who doesn't recognize them. If they knew how happy they can be for it… 

Every time I look into the mirror and see my face (that looks like yours) I want to shout at me. I want to force me to say a word, even if it's only to myself. Just say it out aloud, I want to shout. My lips stay closed. Just say it, I want to force myself every morning. Talking to yourself is the first step to talking to other persons as well (but I only have a month – no, less than a month). I have to try… I try so very hard…

But I am silent.

//This silence gets us nowhere!

Gets us nowhere way too fast!\\


End file.
